10. Blake
Blake
R yder’s grip on my hand tightens when his father greets us. Part of me expected the grin on Simon’s face to be malevolent; instead, it’s warm and friendly. “How long has it been, Ryder?”
The self-assured driver I’m accustomed to bows his head like a scolded child. “Nine years.”
Simon takes the seat across from us, and I introduce myself. “I’m Blake.”
“I know who you are, Ms. Morrison. My son may not have come to visit me over the years, but I’ve been keeping tabs on him. I know all about the Morrison family since your brother, Teague, is his best friend. I made it my business to know who my son was associating with. I didn’t want him to end up like me and get mixed up with the wrong people. I followed in my father’s footsteps, but I didn’t want Ryder to follow in mine.”
That comment catches Ryder’s attention. “What are you talking about? You’re the one who forced me to steal cars in the first place.”
Simon’s expression dims as he absentmindedly rubs a spot on the table. “I didn’t want to, but as the leader of the Savage Scorpions, it was expected of me. Boosting cars was the least of the horrible atrocities that would have been done if I wasn’t the leader. I couldn’t afford to lose control of the gang, but I couldn’t exactly walk away either. Didn’t you ever ask yourself why I never had issues with you playing basketball or staying at the library until closing because it kept you safe? I only assigned you tasks when other members were in our midst. Whenever it was just the two of us and no one was looking, I kept you at home and did my best to shield you.”
I lean back in my seat, studying both Ryder and Simon. This conversation has already stunned me, and it’s just beginning. Simon’s next comment floors me.
Simon says, “You testifying against me was the best thing that could have happened to me, Son.”
Rubbing his temples in confusion, Ryder asks, “How so? Because it was the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do. Do you have any idea of the agony it caused me to watch you be taken away in handcuffs? For years, I looked over my shoulder, wondering if the Savage Scorpions would come after me.”
“You don’t ever have to worry about that. If a single SS member touches a hair on your head or anyone you love, they know that I’ll give the Feds everything I have on the club. My silence has bought you freedom.”
I lean forward and interject into the conversation. “Couldn’t they just silence you, Simon?”
He shakes his head. “They’ve tried a few times, and yet, the moment someone came after me, another person in the club got arrested. It didn’t take them long to figure out I wasn’t bluffing, which is why I’m still here and why Ryder has been safe. I’ve now given all the information I have to someone I trust. If anything happens to me, they’ll turn it over to the FBI.”
Simon stares at Ryder with soft, kind eyes. “Son, escaping that life was nearly impossible. Like you, my father brought me up to be a thief and a thug. Unlike you, he never gave me the opportunity to become more. I protected you as best as I could under the circumstances, even though I know it was never enough. When you testified against me and I ended up here, I was grateful for the reprieve. You gave me the escape I had longed for. Ten years in prison or a lifetime with the Savage Scorpions. They have a new leader now, and when I get out of here in a few more months, I don’t plan on sticking around.”
“You gave the information to Mabel, didn’t you?” Ryder asks.
Simon waves away the comment. “It doesn’t matter who has it, only that you’re safe as a result. You get to live the life I always wanted for you.”
Ryder rests his elbows on the table and buries his face in the palms of his hands. “Do you know anything about the sabotage of Reggie Buchanon’s car? A Scorpion member was seen around the area.”
“My second in command, who is now further down on the food chain, still visits me. You remember Doug, right?”
“Dig Dug,” Ryder retorts. “Your enforcer.”
“That’s right. He came to me the other day, asking about you. He mentioned some guy offered him a hefty sum to have Reggie’s car fail the pre-race inspection and to wear the number on your car. He thought it was odd and that I might be behind it, which is why he questioned me about it. I’m not, but if you’re here asking similar questions, I guess Doug took the job,” Simon tells his son.
As I listen, I feel deep in my heart that Simon is being honest with Ryder. “Did Doug mention who hired him?” I ask. “Reggie is a driver for the company I work for. I’d like to know.”
Simon smirks at me. “Is that so?”
I frown, unsure of what he’s implying. “It is.”
Simon only asks me a straightforward question: “Who has the most to gain by Reggie not racing and framing my boy?” It’s a question I don’t have the answer to because, up until now, I thought it was him.
Ryder and Simon chat for a few more minutes while I sit idly by, content to listen. Eventually, their conversation comes to a close. When Ryder stands up and promises that he’ll start visiting regularly, that’s my cue that it’s time to leave.
Simon calls out, “Blake, may I please have a word with you in private?”
Ryder’s gaze is filled with apprehension, but I jut my chin toward the guard only a few feet away. “I’ll be fine.”
The worry doesn’t leave his eyes, but he does give Simon and me the moment his father requested. Once Ryder is on the other side of the door, I turn around and face Simon. “What did you want to speak to me about?”
“Do you love my son?” he asks bluntly.
“I’ve known him for a week, Simon.”
He gestures for me to sit. “Fair enough. Where do you see your relationship going?”
“Ryder is a diamond in the rough, covered under enough stone that you can easily mistake him for a rock,” I say. “But I see his true potential and value.”
“That doesn’t exactly answer my question,” Simon retorts.
“I like him a lot, Simon. I want to see where things between us will lead. We both have a great deal riding on our decision to be together, and we need to figure out if it’s worth the sacrifices.”
Simon nods. “Have you told him who you really are?”
I lean back as though I’ve been slapped. “I’m not sure what you mean?”
“You can pretend with me all you want, but like I mentioned earlier, I’ve been keeping tabs on your family for a long time. That includes you. I know your secret, and you’re messing with Ryder. That’s something I can’t abide by, even if you have a good reason. Come clean with him, or I will. I know my son, and he’ll understand if you tell him the truth. But if you don’t do it soon, Ryder won’t ever be able to fully trust you. Your relationship will be over before it ever begins.”
I appreciate his candor. “I’m planning on telling him soon.”
Simon holds his hands in the air to signal the guard he’s ready to leave. As he’s getting cuffed, he leaves me with a parting gift. “Even in prison, I was able to figure out your secret, Blake. As a father, I look out for my son’s best interests. Is there anyone in your life who would do the same for you?”
I nod. “My family.”
Before the guard takes him out of the room, Simon looks over his shoulder directly at me. “You asked who would hire Doug to frame my son. I suggest you look at the people who want Ryder out of the picture. If I know your secret, then maybe they do too.”
For the past two days, since I visited the prison with Ryder to see his dad, the private conversation with Simon has been playing in my head like a broken record. I know I need to trust Ryder with my secret if I want any chance at a future with him, but what if he doesn’t understand why I did it?
“You were pretty quiet throughout dinner with Wendall and Mabel,” Ryder says, breaking the silence as we walk from his aunt’s house to the cornhole club to meet his friends.
“Just a lot on my mind,” I tell him. “Mabel didn’t have a problem filling the silence, nor did Wendall.”
“True. They do like to talk.” He opens the door, and laughter fills the air. “You’re about to meet an amazing group of people. You might have even heard the names of one or two of them.”
“Doubtful. I only moved to Texas about a month…. Oh my! Is that Joelle Summers?” I ask the moment I see the petite woman with jet-black hair. “She’s supposed to be on her summer concert tour right now! I tried to get tickets to see her Labor Day concert in Houston in a couple of weeks. Tickets were sold out almost as soon as they went live!”
Ryder laughs. “I’m surprised your dad couldn’t pull a few strings and get you one.”
I sneer. “I don’t use my family name to get anything, Ryder. You should have already figured that out about me.”
He raises his hands in surrender. “I know! I know! You may not get to go to Joelle’s concert, but do you want to meet her?”
A beautiful woman with blonde hair notices us before I can respond. “Ryder! Yay! You made it! We weren’t expecting to see you until tomorrow!” She gives him a warm hug and an even warmer smile. When she looks at me, she asks, “Who’s this?”
Ryder’s touch at the dimple in my back sends delightful shivers down my spine, as it always does when his fingers graze my skin. Even through my clothing, I can feel the heat from the contact. “Blake, this is Elise. Elise, this is Blake.”
Oh! This is the woman he had in his car when he got pulled over. She doesn’t bother to shake my hand; instead, she wraps me up in a firm hug. “What a pleasure!” She takes my hand and drags me over to the group in the corner, leaving Ryder behind to fend for himself.
“This is my boyfriend, Ace,” she says, gesturing to a very handsome and muscular man with short, brown hair and eyes that can pierce the soul. “He’s opening up a gym a few doors down. The grand opening is October 1 st . You should come. Next to him is his brother, Tim, current CEO of Cornhole for a Cause. Then there’s Gabby. She’s an artist.”
I scrunch my nose in confusion. Gabby looks familiar to me, but I can’t quite place her. “I feel like I’ve seen you before,” I say, introducing myself to the group. “I’m Blake Morrison.”
Gabby giggles. “Your father sponsored one of my art shows when I was first getting started. He hired me to paint a photorealistic portrait of his first car. He didn’t know I was in attendance, but you and I had a conversation about secret identities and how you wish you could be someone else for a day.”
I try to laugh it off, but my voice hitches as I respond, “The 1973 Ford Mustang in cherry red,” I say. “I thought Iana Cross painted it.”
“She is Iana Cross,“ Ryder says. “Although everyone around town uses her real name; Gabby. You already know who Joelle Summers is.”
The famous singer shakes my hand. “My friends call me Connie Jo.” She lets go and drags a man over to her side. “This is my husband, Hayden, and over there is his twin brother, Hunter.” She points toward a couple tossing beanbags into a hole. “Next to her is….”
“Merdy Bird!” I shout excitedly.
Everyone laughs at the nickname, but I’ve seen Merdy promote worthy causes on her YouTube channel, Cause and Effect with Merdy Bird . She highlights their efforts and shines a light on charitable initiatives.
“Did I hear my name?” she asks, walking over to us with Hunter following behind her. “Is someone going to finally ask me for my autograph?” she teases. “It’s so hard to live in everyone else’s shadow, but I knew that my light would eventually shine!”
Ryder laughs. “These are The Beanbaggers of Cornhole County—recent champions of the National Cornhole Tournament. They’ll be heading to the World Championship soon. If you want to invite some people to attend your annual event, Blake, then now’s your chance.”
Connie Jo rubs her hands together. “Color me intrigued. What event are you talking about?”
I tell them all about the organization, Play It Forward, and how athletes mentor youth. “The Shuckley location is new, but the goal remains the same. It’s to foster a sense of self-worth, dedication, determination, and confidence in children so that they can be successful in life. We do that through sports.”
The group of people all beam proud smiles at me. Ace steps forward and asks, “How can we help?”